


Bedside Confessions

by acollectionofdaydreams



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Fix-It, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, M/M, Q is alive Obviously, Sick Fic, post 4x13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 13:58:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18639502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acollectionofdaydreams/pseuds/acollectionofdaydreams
Summary: Another in a long line of fix-it fics after the finale we don't speak of. Everyone is alive, Q and Alice have that talk they should have had in 4x11, and Q and Eliot get to be the sweet soft boys in love they are. As it should be.





	Bedside Confessions

It’s a long and arduous week after the showdown with the monster and his sister. Eliot had been stuck in the infirmary for several days, floating in and out of a drug-induced haze. His wound should have been easy to heal once ambient magic was fully restored, but the magical nature of the axes themselves had complicated the matter. He was getting better. It was just a slower process than any of them would have liked.

Margo only left his side when forced to go shower or sleep, and it was usually Quentin doing the forcing. They had been taking shifts at Eliot’s side. She was never happy about it, but there was something in the way she gave in to Quentin’s insistence that let him know she trusted him with their boy. Others came and went, but one of the two of them was always there. 

Eliot was awake sometimes but barely coherent. They usually got a few minutes at a time with him if they were lucky before he passed out again. Lipson had said this was to be expected. They were slowly tapering off his medication as he healed, and he was coming around more and more often as a result. Quentin usually brought a book with him when it was his turn. He treasured the moments he got to see Eliot’s eyes open, of course. He had cried the first time he saw those eyes and recognized Eliot staring back at him from behind them instead of the monster. He enjoyed the quiet moments too though when he could curl up in the bedside chair and read while he listened to Eliot’s soft, quiet breathing. It was on one of these afternoons when Alice came to visit.

She opened the door slowly and quietly, peeking her blonde hair through the crack to see if Eliot was awake or not. Upon seeing he was sleeping, she turned her gaze to Quentin, who had his feet propped up on the side of Eliot’s bed and a well-worn Fillory and Further book in his hands. She gave him a tentative smile from the doorway, seeking permission to come in, and he nodded and sat the book down on the windowsill. Slowly she shut the door and walked past Quentin to lean against the window. She hadn’t been to visit Eliot since the first day when everyone had poured in and overwhelmed the nurses, who really did not want 8 people crowding his hospital bed immediately after surgery. They were never what one might call close, especially after the ill-fated threesome.

“How is he…” she asked, trailing off.

“He’s been better today,” Quentin answered. “He woke up about an hour ago to tell me that this hospital had ‘a disappointing lack of champagne’ and then went right back to sleep.”

They both laughed at that, and Alice said, “Well, that sounds like Eliot.”

It was so Eliot that it made Quentin’s chest ache every time he opened his mouth to say something mumbly and nonsensical because God, he’d missed him. Every little bit of Eliot was like a shot of heroin straight into Quentin’s veins after a long several months of withdrawal. The painful want had been drowned under all of Quentin’s hopelessness and despair for so long now that it was all he could focus on now that Eliot was back.

“Q, can we talk for a minute?” Alice asked, breaking his internal musings.

“Sure,” he said with a little shrug, putting his feet back on the floor and turning to face her. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Eliot out of habit more than anything else, as if he might disappear the second he stopped watching. He was still sleeping soundly though, so Quentin turned his attention to Alice.

She looked nervous, and Quentin could sense her anxiety in the way she was silently tapping her delicate fingers against the wall.

“What’s wrong, Alice?” he asked, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Eliot.

“I think we should break up,” she said.

The words flew out of her mouth quickly, and she met his eyes with a hard gaze. She had clearly made up her mind about this.

Quentin looked to the wall opposite of him and sighed. 

“I’m not saying I disagree, but I’m curious why you think so?” he asked.

She slumped against the windowsill. Quentin thought she had probably come expecting an argument, but with the tension gone she just looked tired and a little bit sad. He stood and walked until he could prop himself up against the window next to her. She scooted away just a fraction of an inch.

“I’m not an idiot, Quentin,” she said, “I know what Eliot means to you, and I know that I was there when he wasn’t and that you wouldn’t have picked me if it was a fair choice.”

“Alice…” Quentin started, but she interrupted him.

“Don’t worry about my self-esteem, Q,” she laughed, “I’m not that girl from first year who needed your love to feel worthy. We both deserve more than that.”

He sighed and nodded. A breathy laugh escaped his lips to his surprise.

“You always were one step ahead of me,” he said, turning to meet her eyes for the first time since the conversation started. 

Both of their eyes were watery but not entirely from sadness. The sadness was there, of course. Both of them were mourning the loss of what was and could have been. There was a hopefulness too though because they both knew this was the start of something even better in some way or another.

“I meant what I said, Alice,” he said firmly. “I want you in my life, and I truly hope we can be friends after everything.”

She smiled then and slid her hand over his on the window, squeezing once.

“I would like that,” she said.

She moved her hand away, and stood up facing him. She leaned in to wrap her arms around him, and he returned her shaky hug. She took a step back but left her hand on his arm and kissed his cheek quickly as she pulled away. 

“Give Eliot my love when he wakes up,” she said sweetly.

Quentin nodded, and she gave him one last look before leaving the room and softly closing the door behind her.

Quentin sighed and made his way back to the chair next to Eliot’s bed. He leaned back into the uncomfortable worn fabric and propped his feet up on the bed. He looked at Eliot’s face for a few seconds before letting out a small laugh.

“How long have you been awake, El?” he asked.

Eliot fluttered one eye open and returned his stare.

“Long enough,” he admitted groggily.

Quentin reached for Eliot’s hand at his side and took it into his own hands. He rubbed his thumb across Eliot’s fingers and smiled when Eliot squeezed back.

“Not to cut right to the chase, but who knows how long we have until I pass out again. What she said about what I mean to you…” Eliot drawled.

“I don’t know if now is the best time for this conversation,” Quentin said.

He had planned to talk to Eliot about everything, including the words Eliot had used to prove it was him that day in the park. He wanted to do that when neither of them was high or sleep-deprived though.

“It’s probably not,” Eliot said, “but I promised myself I would be brave when I got the chance. So just so you know, I feel the same.”

Quentin’s heart raced in his chest. He had hoped Eliot’s declaration had meant something along those lines, but he hadn’t dared to let himself assume. More needed to be said and discussed, but for now Quentin smiled and lifted Eliot’s hand to his lips. He kissed the smooth skin on his knuckles, and Eliot flashed a bright smile at him.

“Peaches and plums, motherfucker,” Quentin said, grinning so widely he felt like his face might split after months of wearing that tired worried frown.

“Peaches and plums,” Eliot mumbled, clearly already getting tired again.

Quentin reached out with his free hand and brushed Eliot’s curls off of his forehead.

“Go to sleep, El,” Quentin said. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Okay dear, nighty night,” Eliot said in a sing-song voice.

Quentin laughed and leaned forward to place a soft chaste kiss on his lips. Eliot sighed in contentment before drifting off again. Quentin kept his hold on Eliot’s hand while he reached for his copy of Fillory and Further again and flipped it open to where he’d left off earlier. Hours later when Margo came in to bring Quentin dinner and take over her shift, she found them both asleep with hands still intertwined. She smiled smugly and shook her head. It was about time her boys got their shit together.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr @folie-a-hayley! come say hi :)


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